


Sherlock's Pet

by sevil



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dubious Consent, Gunplay, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-31
Updated: 2010-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevil/pseuds/sevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, you're Sherlock's pet, then."</p><p>What Moriarty did to John before he strapped the bombs on him. Warnings: dub-con and gunplay</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock's Pet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a kink meme fic for [this prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/575.html?thread=1855551#t1855551) at [sherlockbbc_fic](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/).

"So, you're Sherlock's pet, then."

Bright neon light doesn't cast many shadows, so I saw his eyes widen briefly in recognition when I walked into the room. A moment later they were back to their normal blue inscrutiny. He stood up a little straighter but didn't answer.

"Pity", I said and stopped in front of him. He just looked at me with his impassive face, his hands twitching just the slightest bit as I laid my hand heavily on his shoulder.

"We could have so much fun together."

I stepped closer, invading his personal space, letting my hand trail lazily over his chest, the rough outline of his scar nearly imperceptable through the thin cotton shirt he was wearing. Slight twitch of muscles on the right side of his mouth, still no answer.

„John Watson."

I savoured the name, let it roll of my tongue like fine champagne into a lover's mouth. I walked around him, still in his space. My hand rested on his hips and I leaned over.

„Dr. John Watson", I whispered into his ear and cupped his crotch in a crude, abrupt gesture. He wheeled around while his hands were starting for his belt.

„Looking for this?" I asked mockingly and lifted my other hand until his own gun was trained on his heart.

„Bastard!" he hissed and for the first time I saw a flicker of something in his gaze. It was directed exclusively at me and it almost made me shiver. I took two steps towards him, slow and predatory, my hand never wavering. His eyes were locked with mine and he balled his hands into fists but he backed away until he was pressed to the cold stonewall. His body language spoke of repressed anger and open hatred, but I couldn't see any hint of fear. I took the last step and closed the distance, bringing us flush against each other and the gun to rest at his temple. He had to feel my erection, rock hard in my trousers, and his body went slack. I looked into his eyes as I moved the cold, shining metal of the barrel lower, caressing his cheekbones and coming to a halt just under his chin. Again I saw a flicker of hot, hard emotion in his eyes, more complicated now (but still no fear), and I felt something stirring at my hip.

„Oh, this is interesting, very interesting indeed."

If looks could kill I would definitely have fallen dead then and there.

„Who would have thought? Our good Doctor, turned on by an evil genius with a gun in his hands. Does Sherlock know? Is this while he keeps you around, because you let him fuck you whenever he steals your precious, precious gun?"

„Fuck off and die!" he hissed through clenched teeth, but the bulge was unmistakebly now. Oh, this will be so much fun!

I pressed the gun harder into his soft flesh and he swallowed visibly. For a moment I was fascinated by the movement of his adams apple and the slight flush that began to creep up from the collar of his shirt. It made a nice contrast to the shining black of the gun. I took a moment to admire my handywork, then I brought it up to circle his mouth.

„Such a filthy mouth on someone so pretty. Hasn't your mama taught you better? You really should listen to her more, my dear. We don't want anything happening to you now, do we?"

He said nothing but his jaw was working fouriously, trying to keep up his cold, impassive front, trying to will away his by now rampaging erection. I brought the barrel to his lips and pushed in. He resisted for a moment and I released the safety with an audible click. His hips jerked forward reflexively and his erection came into contact with mine. I bit back a groan at the sensation; he opened his eyes and mouth at the same time, startled into betraying his facade (anger and hatred and pure, naked lust but still no fear). Any sound he might have made was silenced, though, as I roughly pushed the barrel in, not caring that I scraped the roof of his mouth with the edge. He whimpered and gagged and his hands came up instinctively to push me away, but I just smirked, pressed even closer into him and moved the gun a fraction of an inch. That was enough to remind him of the situation.

„That is better now. Nice and quiet."

By now I was breathing hard and barely kept myself from grinding into him. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and he looked at me with his burning blue eyes, so different now from the cold, impassive ones from earlier. Still, no fear. I deliberately moved my hips and grinded our erections together and the sensation nearly undid me. I swallowed hard and he must have seen it, because his lips closed slowly around the cold metal of the gun and he began to suck. He moved his head, nearly imperceptably, forwards and back again. I stared transfixed at the gun in his mouth and at the slightly bobbing head and unconciously licked my lips. His tongue darted out and mimicked the motion as best he could and his hands came to rest on my hips.

The sudden contact snapped me out of it. I slapped his hands away and used my free hand to turn him over, the gun never leaving his mouth. His head was forced at an uncomfortable angle against the wall and my straining, leaking erection pressed against his arse. He made that delicious strangled noise again and I bit down hard at his ear.

„What was that?" I took the gun out of his mouth for a minute and he inhaled shakily. I used my other hand to roughly cup his erection through his trousers and he moanes and squirmes, trying to fuck into my hand.

„Please, I can't..." I shoved the gun back in and he made that gagging sounds again, his hands gripping uselessly at the wall.

„Drop your trousers!" I instructed and my voice only shook a little. He fumbled with his belt for a moment and I jerked my hips forward, trapping his hands and his still clothed erection between his body and the unadorned wall. His muffled cries did nothing for my self control and I nearly sighed with relief when I heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down and felt his clothes slipping away.

I fucked him against the wall, hard and rough, without lube and only minimal preparations. And the whole time I kept the gun in his mouth, never letting him forget that I could end his miserable life with only a little twitch of my finger. I don't know if he came or if the pain took care of that; I don't even care if he ever was afraid or what he told Sherlock afterwards. All I care about is that I had his flatmate, the only friend he'll ever have, reduced to a quivering, begging mess against my wall while I fucked his mouth with his gun and his arse with my cock.


End file.
